


Dean has a crush on Death

by mglouise97



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 02:37:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3471221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mglouise97/pseuds/mglouise97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is kind of infatuated with Death. He isn't in love. He just.... Really likes sneaking out in the middle of the night to grab a snack with the horseman.</p><p>I like to call this ship: Deanth. :3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean has a crush on Death

**Author's Note:**

> I have been sitting on this FOREVER. I have ideas to write more but I just havent gotten around to it yet. I figured I might as well upload this part now at least.

The bell chimed as he walked through the door of the diner. Dean tried to casually scan the room trying not to get his hopes up. It wasnt like he was expecting Death to be here. He probably has better things to-- his eyes landed on the ominous figure in the corner booth. His back was towards Dean but he knew who the figure was. He couldnt help but smile a little on the inside. 

Dean slid into the booth across from Death. 

Without glancing up from his food, Death greeted the hunter. "I took the liberty of ordering us some pie. I know how you like cherry." He gestured at the pie that sat waiting for Dean.

Ignoring the pride he felt for being referred to as "us", Dean laughed gruffly. "Thanks." 

He picked up his fork and dug in. The pie was, of course, amazing. This was one of his favorite places to eat in the whole US. He stopped by everytime he was in town. And luckly for Dean it was open 24/7. 

They ate their pie in silence. Dean was used to it by now. It wasn't necessarily a comfortable silence, though not at all an awkward silence either. It was... Anxious. Death being so powerful, it felt only right for Dean to give up control of the situation to him and let Death guide the conversation. Dean was always hanging on Death's few and far between words, lapping them up like a cat to milk. He had always been in awe of the horseman and it was this awe and fear and respect that lingered in the silence. Always waiting for Death to make his move, as so many do.

Death finished his pie and wiped his mouth with a napkin. Finally making eye contact, he struck up conversation. "So how's the hunt?"

Death's gaze never faltered. He was quick, cold, and decisive about where he chose to grace his glance. Sometimes they would go whole meals before Death would look up. But when he did, he stared straight into Dean's soul, never breaking eye contact until he answered his question. 

"Uh good. Ya, good. Sam thinks its a witch so tomorrow we're going to snoop around town a bit more to see if we can find anything else. It shouldn't be too difficult." Dean answered as casually as one could to such a being. 

"Good, good." Death replied. "I never liked witches. They think they can control the forces of nature with their little spells and hex bags. Peksy little bugs." Death smiled disdainfully.

Dean laughed in return. "Ya those things must bother you quite a bit. Messing up the order of things and all that."

Death raised an eyebrow accusingly. "Not that you would ever do such a thing, Dean Winchester."

Dean held up his hands defensively. "Hey, I only try to put the world back together after it's been messed up." Dean cracked a genuine smile. 

These were the moments he loved. Who knew Death could be so cleverly sarcastic? And who could have guessed that it would be Dean who would get to take part in the sly banter? 

There were days when Dean would tell Death about the hunts, and what he's been doing on the road in the past few weeks. Sometimes, maybe after a natural disaster or mass shooting, Death would tell Dean the troubles of his life. He would stare out the window and spin the story of the 8th grader who mercilessly shot 12 of his classmates and the looks on their faces as they left this world. He would tell of the floods that wiped away house after house on some foreign coast, some drowning in mud or water, others caught in the tongues of fire.  
Dean would revel in his stories, sitting slack jawed and patient as Death let loose the tales of the lives that he stole away. Sometimes he would stare out the window distantly as he spoke, other times he would maintain eye contact throughout the story, the images boreing razor sharp into Dean's memory. 

It wasn't all serious though. One time, Dean even got up the courage to ask Death about the anceint Egyptians, just as a joke to see what Death would say. A faint smile flitted across Death's face and he told Dean stories of what the land had looked like when it was green and lush, how many books the Library at Alexandria had held, and the elaborate ceremonies of the Pharaohs. Dean had been mezmorized by that one, fascinated by Death's bredth of knowledge and timeless memory. 

Death stood up to leave. He dropped a few bills on the table for the pie, curtly thanked Dean for the company, and vanished. By now the sun was up and piercing Dean's sleepy eyes with its harsh light. He glanced at his watch, 6am. Shoot. They've never gone this long. A bubble of panic rose in him but he was still fairly confident that Sam was still sleeping. No reason for him to be awake at this hour. If Dean hurried he could probably get at least 3 hours of sleep.


End file.
